This story was an evolution of World of Warcraft: Broken Knights. I realized I wanted something a little truncated that covered a longer time frame without having to write a fan fiction novel.
It was fun writing this and I apologize for any minor lore contradictions or mistakes. In some cases, they were deliberate but this I minimized as much as I could.
I do hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing. It took me a short time to finish it but far longer to edit.
If you'd like to contact me in game, I play a Blood Elf Paladin on Jubei'thos (oceanic) named Ravenshadow. I also RP on Moon Guard.
My battle tag is Ravenshadow#6732.
If you do add me though, let me know you're doing so via :)
Regards,
Chris
Once there was the Light and...the sun. Once these had meaning and purpose. Now, the thought of them fills me with dread and this cold heart of mine, long since bereft of life, clenches in resentment of that absence.
The thought does not fill me with warmth. They are remnants of a past I no longer care for.
The agony has seceded but its memory coils about me like a bitter lover. I use it to fuel my actions and to drown the impossible embers of the past which refuses to burn away.
And now I stand on the precipice of change in a world that has long since been fractured. Like my own soul and that of my brethren, it stands as a reminder of the cruel hand that fate had dealt us.
Yet, in death and in life we are resolute and resilient. Our will is absolute.
Why do we stand against all odds despite everything that was thrown at us?
Perhaps it is who we are, despite our racial and cultural differences, we are all united in the fight.
But why do we fight?
Perhaps there is no other choice left to us.
Home.
The word rolled off Kal'thelos Ravenshadow's tongue like it was foreign and it might as well have been. Two and a half years of constant fighting against the demons of the Burning Legion made the thought of home seem like a cruel dream sent to trouble the mind while the body slumbered.
But home was where they were headed now. The Azerothian envoy had set off for the Dark Portal several hours ago tasked with alerting and preparing the capitals for the return of their gallant sons and daughters.
Kal looked to his battalion and grimaced to himself. This rag tag band of unlikely heroes, once enemies on familiar soil stood as brothers in arms on this desolate, alien rock of Draenor.
Human stood shoulder to shoulder with orc while blood elves and night elves shared drink and stories by the campfire. In their midst gathered Tauren, dwarves, Forsaken and a few of the curiously diminutive gnomes.
The host race of this planet, the Draenei walked among the soldiers, their violet skin and cloven feet eerily resembling the demons in the Legion. Yet they were hailed as warriors of light and took a place among the brotherhood; among even the orcs whose ancestors had originated from Draenor but fell to the sway of demons before laying siege to the entire planet. They brought war and death to the peaceful Draenei and now, several generations passed, their descendents fight to regain their lost honour.
From the corner of his eye, Kal noticed someone approaching. Vlad Blackgrave, a Forsaken warlock shambled toward him with Vana'thel Hawksword in tow. The night elf huntress followed closely behind with a large black wolf stalking beside her.
"Champion," Vlad said, his voice was deep and sounded like scratching on a coffin. He acknowledged Kal by his Blood Knight rank; a rank that was given to him by Lady Liadrin in honour of his long and dedicated service. Kal's proper rank was Captain but the two were seemingly interchangeable.
"Are we ready to depart?"
Vana'thel nodded and answered, "My rangers have returned. The envoys have crossed the Portal and are on their way to the capitals. Our forces are ready to leave,"
"Good, inform all officers to gather their men and prepare to move out. Also check in with the auxiliary guard and ensure they have enough supplies for the token force remaining here. It will be a good two months before the next rotation so they need to be well stocked,"
"That is being taken care of as we speak," Vlad rasped, "We will relay your orders for the men to move out,"
The Forsaken gave a half-hearted salute, one which Kal responded in kind. They had been through thick and thin and survived the horrors of the Black Citadel and everything the Betrayer, Illidan could throw at them. Their bond was one forged in fire and superseded whatever military protocol they had once adhered to.
Besides, they were going home. That alone was enough cause for levity.
Ravenshadow.
Among my people, my family name was a cause for shame. Formed sometime during the War of the Ancients, we were the result of a union between the legendary house of Ravencrest albeit a lesser member and a disgraced exile from Suramar.
Their dalliance stroked the ire of Lord Ravencrest and some say to this day that it was this which led him to be killed in battle. They would say this caused in him such turmoil and distraction that the leader of the kal'dorei forces sought death rather than be further humiliated by it.
Was there truth to these claims? I do not know nor do I care. My family history states that our founders had taken to calling themselves House Ravenshadow, partially in honour of the fallen warrior but mostly to stave off the condemnation.
But condemned they were, centuries after and when the Highborn left and eventually became known as the Quel'dorei. My family left with the enterprising elves and was there at the dawn of Silvermoon City. Things were different then, they were different. Both physically and mentally. Yet the burden of that past echoed still.
Their first chance for redemption came when the war with the Trolls reached a fevered pitch. It was unfortunate that our cowardly patriarch chose to hide behind his wealth and remain indifferent to the cause.
It did them no favours and it was not until my father did our name begin its tumultuous ascent from being reviled to something resembling respect, however begrudging.
But it ultimately fell to me, as a son of the House Ravenshadow to carry the banner of our rocky heritage to greatness.
They stood in the shadow of the Dark Portal, a conglomerate of races. There was no Alliance here, no Horde.
The brave men and women from the expedition to Draenor stood with their heads held high among faces that have grown more familiar than those of their own kin. They may have just been one battalion in an entire army but they were no less important than the others.
Kal sat atop Thorièl, his trusted steed. The horse had been a gift for completing his Blood Knight training in what had seemed like decades ago and bore him loyally and steadfastly throughout the trials in Draenor.
It stood resolute now with its rider gazing out at the men.
Who would have thought that saying goodbye was going to be so hard? But the fight was over and it was time to return home. Men and women that stood by each other shook hands. Some hugged. Others traded keepsakes and mementos; tiny gestures to commemorate a bond forged in blood and fire.
Kal grimaced at the bittersweet irony that sometime in the future his brothers and sisters could be called to war once again and it could very well be against one another.
It seemed petty to him to fight for something as pedestrian as faction pride when there were far worse things out there. The concerns of the Horde and Alliance failed to resonate with him and Kal wondered if the call were sounded, would he care to lift his sword and charge against those he had served with?
Could he charge against those he had commanded?
He was a soldier first and foremost and his loyalty was to Silvermoon. As a Blood Knight Champion, he was irrefutably part of Silvermoon's elite guard and Regent-Lord Lor'themar Theron would not hesitate to call upon him if such a need arose.
Shaking his head, he wondered if Lor'themar had grown fat with power since his abrupt ascension to caretaker of Silvermoon. Prince Kael'thas would return soon and Kal mused if the Regent-Lord would seek out ways to circumvent that eventuality.
"You look like you're about to cry,"
The sarcastic but friendly voice brought him out of his reverie. Kal turned with a slight smile on his tanned face and brushed the strands of his long dark hair away absentmindedly.
"Bael'thor," he said, "If I'm about to cry, I would merely be adding to that river you created,"
"Oh come now, I'm not that big of a cry baby,"
Kal grinned and gripped his best friend's shoulder. Bael was a fellow Blood Knight, although of a lower rank. Yet the two had been as close as brothers and fought often as a unit.
"I never thought that this day would come. I never thought I'd live to see it. But here we are Bael, at the precipice of change and now that this is over, I do not know what I am going to do,"
Bael grinned, "You'll keep fighting. Old habits die hard. I heard Lor'themar's putting together an honor guard for Kael'thas' return. Maybe if civil war breaks out..."
"Don't even joke about that. But it would do our people good for our Prince to return. He's been too long from home. I've been too long from home. When I left, we had not joined the Horde officially! Now we are part of a faction I hold no love for,"
"Sometimes I forget just how miserably old you are,"
Kal was about to reply when the sharp blow of a horn interrupted him. The soldiers in the valley picked up their gear and moved into their respective platoons. The officers stood at the front barking orders and Kal saw Vlad organize his warlocks while Vel'lissa, the Sin'dorei mage leader speaking to the mages in her care. The warlocks and mages stood in the rear but on opposing ends of the battalion.
Vana'thel and her rangers took up the middle rear guard and the Night Elf and her wolf, Senya stood ever the ready, as did her people.
Like the mages and warlocks, her rangers were a smattering of highly skilled individuals pulled from the various races of Azeroth. A lone Draenei hunter stood in the midst and Kal knew her name to be Daeva. Even the troll, Kul'ja took a spot of prominence in the Night Elf's party.
The infantry made up the bulk of his forces and they stood more proudly than any other. Kal felt a twinge of pride swell in his chest; they were the fiercest and most honourable of soldiers in his eyes.
Orcs, Tauren, Blood Elf, Night Elf, Dwarf, Forsaken, Trolls, Draenei and Gnomes assembled together as one while their officers, the Draenei Vindicator, Archoneus along with the Tauren, Rauros Talloak and the orc, Grox'gar Hammerdown stood in the front with their weapons sheathed but ready.
The cavalry that waited in the flanks with one squad taking the lead position before the battalion were organized by paladins and Blood Knights. These were Kal's men and he has led them into battle more times than he could count.
"It is time Kal," Bael said, his usually cheerful voice taking on an air of seriousness. He rode in the cavalry with Kal and he was as proud of his brothers and sisters as he was of the entire force, "They await your address,"
They had rode down together and even then, his mind was aflame. He took up position on a small out crop of rock overlooking the valley and his men. He chose this position because while he could see all of them clearly, it kept them at his eye level. It was important to Kal, that his men knew he saw them as equals.
Bael'thor had since taken up his position in the cavalry, the second in command, a human Paladin by the name of Alaric Roseheart returned to formation.
"My brothers and sisters," he began, his voice carrying well over the valley, "Two years ago we left our homeland, never to look back. We said our goodbyes to our families and our lives and gave ourselves up to the service of Azeroth.
We left here with all of our hate, distrust and pride. We were a fractured, splintered group of highly volatile peoples forced into a tinderbox situation. We could have erupted at anytime, jeopardizing our solemn mission.
The Burning Legion stood at the mouth of Azeroth and it fell to us, disgruntled, broken soldiers of Azeroth to push them back.
And we did push them back but not without first conquering the one thing that divided all of us; hate and prejudice.
We rose above the petty squabbles of Horde and Alliance and found on that alien world, a chance for us to be united as one. We rose above the hate and forged bonds that no sword can break! We forged bonds that no shield can shatter and no arrow can pierce!
We faced the demon horde as one, as brothers, as sisters and it is this day that we stand together, victorious!"
He paused and allowed the elation to wash over the soldiers. Their cheers were so deafening that Kal was sure nearby Nethergarde would hear it. He waited until the clamour died down before speaking again.
"We never thought we'd return home but it was home that we fought for. And now we gather here, our long mission finally done. We are going home to a world that has changed and moved on without us because we fought to give it that chance!
But now each of us will have to make a choice; do we make it on our own or do we join the groups fate had forced upon us. For the Horde or for the Alliance? Either way, we may find each other on the field again but on opposing sides. If that day ever comes, know that I will always be proud to call you my brothers and sisters!"
The cheers were thunderous and with a smile tinted with a hint of melancholy, Kal rode down toward his men, glad that this war was finally over.
That should have been it.
Our victorious return should have been the defining moment in the history of our people. Silvermoon glistened but it was not long before the streets ran red with blood once again. The Scourge was ever present in our minds then and its effects long felt.
But nothing could have prepared us for the treachery that came in the form of the one person we had pinned all of our hopes on.
Kael'thas Sunstrider.
Our Prince had returned home only to rob his people of their magic and sell his soul to a demon lord. In truth, Bael'thor Shatterstar was right. His words now rang as prophecy as Kael'thas and his traitor army marched into Silvermoon and stole the Naaru that gave us its power.
The Isle of Quel'danis became the new battleground and we and our surprising allies from the Alliance, the Draenei, were all that stood between Kael'thas and his summoning of the demon lord Kil'jaeden.
The Shattered Sun Offensive they called us and we were assigned the grim task of stopping the threat to Azeroth by any means necessary.
And we did.
Kael'thas was destroyed and the demon lord, Kil'jaeden, was once again denied admission into our world. It was a difficult task but one which bore unexpected fruit.
The Sunwell which the Scourge took to ground when they invaded Quel'thelas had lain destroyed for many years. My people fell to the addiction so rapidly and most succumbed to the fell energies which Kael'thas offered through Illidan because of this.
But the Sunwell was restored, through the actions of the dragon flights and a very curious human female. I did not care for the particulars however. The Sunwell burned with potency and purity like never before and for the first time in decades, my people saw a chance at redemption. The addiction began to pass and signs of normalcy crept back into our lives.
Redemption. Such a simple word that held so much promise and yet, here I am now, twice redeemed and twice damned.
There was peace for a time after the events at Quel'thelas but it was not long before Kal was wrapped up in another war. Having joined the Argent Dawn some time after Kael'thas' fall, Kal and Bael spent most of their time away from Silvermoon fighting against pockets of Scourge.
But while the other heroes of Azeroth and Draenor caught up with much deserved respite, the foreboding figure in the north, a distant memory but not forgotten, stirred from his icy sleep.
The Lich King awoke and with a powerful display of the might he had quietly assembled, forced the people of Azeroth to rally to the call of their battle standards.
The drums of war rang once more and Kal together with Bael'thor and the remnants of the Argent Dawn now calling itself the Argent Crusade flew on a goblin zeppelin to the frozen wasteland of Northrend.
The path toward Vengeance Landing in Howling Fjord was treacherous and the sheer cliffs of Daggercap Bay threatened to impale any vessel that dared brave her narrow passage.
The land here had long since been terraformed and grass grew where there once had been frost and ice. The Forsaken machinery that belted out smoke and fire increased the ambient temperature of the immediate vicinity, eventually making long term habitation in this part of Northrend possible.
Yet the cold winds stung and sometimes came close to forcefully upending the zeppelin. When they docked, Kal was glad to be back on solid ground.
"I never thought I'd be back here again, so soon," Bael mused as they descended down the stairs.
Kal nodded to Sebastian Crane as they walked by, his eyes firmly fixed on the alien landscape, "I've never been here. I was stuck in Silvermoon then,"
"It was a different time. I...we were part of the Alliance,"
Kal chuckled, "Alliance or Horde, I doubt it matters to the Lich King. All who fall are raised as undead soldiers to march under his banner,"
"Like Koltira,"
Kal nodded grimly as if that memory still burned in his mind. He had known Koltira when he was younger but now the once exuberant elf stood beside the traitor king. As a cold, unthinking, unflinching but unstoppable instrument of death.
A Death Knight.
"We are all slaves to fate," he muttered under his frosting breath. The slow hum of Forsaken machinery droned out in the background and the occasional flickers of electricity and sparks lit up the northern sky in this hauntingly beautiful land.
The Forsaken worked quietly, which was a far cry from the boisterous orcs in Ogrimmar and Kal silently gave thanks for that. He had a task to organize the forces here and launch them further into Northrend and the last thing he needed was to deal with uncooperative Forsaken.
Still, despite their deathly silence, they seemed far more focused in their work. The Lich King had destroyed many lives but none more than the citizens of his one-time kingdom of Lordaeron. Many of the Forsaken whom worked in peace here were once its human citizens cursed into un-life by the Lich King.
The irony was not lost on him.
"So what are your orders?" Bael asked while placing his pack on the ground. His sword lay strapped to his back securely and his long hair, usually ponytailed whipped about. Kal's own hair which he preferred to leave un-tethered flew about his face. He made a mental note to braid it as soon as he could.
Looking at the advance party for the Horde Expedition from Silvermoon, Kal could not help but feel proud of his hand-picked few. Aside from Bael, the Forsaken warlock Vlad Blackgrave whom served with them in Draenor and the only non Blood elf in the squad accompanied them. Kal had insisted that Vlad be allowed to join and it took threatening Lor'themar to get his way.
The other three were the siblings; Aen'thelas and Tana'lynn Sunsword. The brother was young and impressionable but he was a quick learner and a powerful warrior while his sister was a competent mage. She was admitted for study in Dalaran but chose to decline the offer and travel with her brother after their father and last living relative died when Kael'thas raided Silvermoon.
The third was a hunter, Xoxi Steelfang and her wolf. Xoxi's keen eyes and skill with the bow earned her this spot and Kal could not be happier with his choice.
"Sort out your equipment, there is no time for rest," Kal finally said, his commanding voice immediately calling them to attention, "In half an hour, we set out for Utgarde Keep. Intelligence determined that the Keep is now a stronghold of the Lich King and he uses it to raise more warriors among the Vrykul. These giants are more than formidable alive. If they're being raised from death-"
He shook his head, knowing it was unnecessary to continue.
"What's phase two?" Vlad asked, his raspy voice carried like carrion on the wind.
"Phase two is we infiltrate and wipe out all forces. We're a small group so I expect to keep it tight and quiet. We go in, kill the leader, send their forces in disarray so Sylvanas can deploy her rangers to clean up the excess,"
"I imagine she'd be quite looking forward to that," Bael grinned.
"I imagine she might," Kal took a deep icy breath. Though chilling, it focused him.
"This war is personal to us all. Your people, Vlad suffered much but Arthas laid siege to our city too and destroyed everything. He polarized our society and we stand divided and weak now because of him! But we will not be weak for long because we have one thing he has not; life.
He is the embodiment of death...of dead things. He does not fight for home or country. He does not fight for his people. He fights because he must, it is what he knows. But most importantly, he fights without conviction.
We fight for our lives, for our families and our world. Everything hangs in the balance and we either deliver Azeroth from the Lich King's icy grip or we will die trying,"
Die trying.
Given the outcome, my words were an apt and paradoxical foretelling of my fate. Did I think that such a thing would happen to me? No.
I knew I could very well die, my blood spilt upon the ice. I dreamed of my death so many times upon stepping foot on Northrend.
Our forces grew with more reinforcements from Silvermoon and the other cities. This fight was personal, especially to Silvermoon and the Undercity. Both my people and the Forsaken had lost much and we threw ourselves at the onslaught sometimes recklessly. Our hearts were in the right place but our hate and anger got the better of us. Even that upstart orc on the other Horde outpost, Garrosh Hellscream was tempered with more restraint than us.
But he did not lose what we did. I knew of his father and how the fool had delivered his race to damnation. His race had given themselves up to the demons willingly while we had no choice in the matter!
No, this fight was necessary...not for vengeance or revenge.
But retribution.
Despite the dreams of death, I thought I would survive anything having survived the battle at Light's Hope Chapel.
How wrong I was.
And for a time I was cold and unflinching. I was remorseless and unstoppable.
I was...am a Death Knight.
The light failed me when I needed it the most and it was in Icecrown when I fell. So close to my quarry and I failed only to be raised as a soldier at the last push.
I turned on my fellows with a fury I had never known. The light forsook me but I wielded such powers of death that beget more corpses for Arthas.
Bael'thor fell by my hands and now stands as a fellow brother in darkness.
But when the Lich King fell and his sword, Forstmourne lay shattered upon his dais, so too did the iron hold he had on our minds.
The torrent of emotions was too much to bear and many of my brethren had taken to ending their un-lives upon the jagged ice shards surrounding the frozen obelisk which served as his throne. Those that remained suffered immeasurable pain.
I thought of Koltira and how he must have felt when the spell broke the first time over Light's Hope. And Thassarian. And Darion Mograine. We may been on opposite sides then but their turn from Arthas was observed by all.
They hated us, I could see. Even sweet, beloved Xoxi whom had, in these cold nights, been the warmth my soul needed. Her eyes once filled with love looked at me with horror.
I could not bear her gaze.
When they left Northrend, we stayed. Darion Mograine, son of the legendary Alexandros Mograine and once corrupted lieutenant of the Lich King had at Light's Hope, gathered the broken shards of the order and reassembled it into something cohesive. The Knights of the Ebon Blade had been instrumental in turning the tide against the Lich King and now, we took up positions there.
There was nowhere else to go. No home now that would welcome us readily. Though Death Knights were slowly making their way back into society, the living will always view us with disdain and distrust. I cannot blame them. For the short time I had been undead, I carved a path of blood through my own forces and nearly caused us our victory. What more those whom had served for years in Arthas' employ?
Now together with Bael, we fight under the banner of the Ebon Blade and go wherever our swords are needed.
Once we stood at the forefront of the armies, shining, resplendent and glorious. We were glowing examples used to rally Silvermoon and the Horde.
Now we stand at the vanguard because we are vicious and powerful but most importantly...dead.
I had built up my family name only to see its new worth threatened by my very state.
Kal'thelos Ravenshadow could no longer exist. The sins of the father and of the son cannot taint that which had been redeemed through much blood and sacrifice.
No...Xoxi would understand. She and our child would have to. He would bear the name of Ravenshadow and in this new era, would see it further in the light while I sink deeper in the shadows.
Kal'thelos Sunshadow... that is my name now.
My legacy.
The Sky Shark broke through the mists and the magnificent sight that awaited those on board rendered them speechless for a few moments.
It was the sight of the Alliance fleet sailing beneath them that forced Nazgrim out of his trance. He began barking orders and organizing an attack.
Under new Warchief, Garrosh Hellscream, war between the Alliance had been reignited and the Horde machine was both unrelenting and unstoppable. Those that clung to their morals as they did their lives drew their weapons with reluctance.
It was up to those whom no longer cared, no longer felt the warmth of the sun or the joy of being alive. It was up to those that fought for its sake and asked for nothing more than the right to spill the blood of their enemies.
Kal'thelos Sunshadow stood near the General, his deathly pale face was expressionless. The two swords that were sheathed at his hips glowed and crackled with runic energy.
Though his armour was heavy, Kal moved unencumbered by a helm. In all his time as a Death Knight, he had not found a moment when he required its protection.
"Kal'thelos!" Nazgrim barked, "Get on those cannons and destroy those fools!"
Kal looked at Nazgrim and nodded. His cold expressionless eyes watching the mists part around unfamiliar mountains. Without missing a beat, the former Blood Knight made his way beneath the zeppelin to man one of the cannons.
He fired mercilessly and relentlessly at the Alliance ships; ripping into the sails and stern and completely obliterating the ones closest to his stream of fire. His keen eyes saw the flailing Alliance soldiers, some torn apart by the firepower, others abandoning ship.
His eyes swept across all that he attacked.
There! In the smaller ship sailing straight through the fleet. There were some familiar faces.
A strange look, almost like guilt crossed his face when he recognized them but it was gone in an instant. Kal steeled himself and whirled the cannon toward the ship.
"Well well," he said, his voice was like the howl of a tempest forming, "We meet again, my old comrades,"
Tracking the ship, he spun the cannon toward it and fired off a volley which sheared it in half.
Onboard the Alliance vessel, Vana'thel Hawksword and Archoneus screamed as the sudden explosion threw them into the river.
Satisfied, the Death Knight detached himself from the weapon and grabbed hold of the rope. He smelt fire and felt the zeppelin losing altitude. It was time for him to abandon ship.
Launching himself into freefall with the rope tightly held in his hands, the unfamiliar land drew closer with his descent. He saw strange beings in the distance, curious bear like humanoids panicking as the might of the Horde barrelled down upon them.
Kal steeled himself for the days and months to come. It was long since he had found something worth fighting for and in this new land, there was territory to be carved for the Horde. If the locals stood in his way, then they will fall like so many others.
After all, what else is there for him but war?
END
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